


raining cats and dogs

by cherriedpeaches



Series: Arumika Week 2019 [6]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Arumika Week, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Kissing in the Rain, accidental pet acquisition, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 02:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20807204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherriedpeaches/pseuds/cherriedpeaches
Summary: “Is that a cat?” Mikasa stared from the doorway, hair still ruffled from being asleep.Armin looked at the kitten, who was gobbling down a tin of tuna from a plate, looking absolutely dwarfed with its tiny paws and tiny face. “I sure hope it is?”...Arumika Week, Day 6: Rainy Day





	raining cats and dogs

The rain, that night, was soft.

It wasn't the slamming-fists kind of rain, the kind that clawed at the roof and screamed through the windows. It was the gentle kind, the slow tap-tap-tap of rainwater echoing through the walls, the splashing of puddles forming outside.

It was the kind that made the next morning feel fresh.

The air was clean, the sky was clear, and everything felt a bit sleepy that morning. It was a Saturday, and the cars passed sluggishly along the road, and most curtains were drawn, enjoying the quiet of the early air.

The only downside was that it was  _ freezing. _

Armin suppressed a shiver, dressed in only a t-shirt and sweats, his pajamas. Plus a pair of massive Jesus sandals that kept slipping off his feet as he dragged the rubbish bag to the outside bin. He was pretty sure that the sandals had belonged to Eren at some point. Why had he bought them? Why had he left the sandals at Armin and Mikasa's place? If, presumably, he had worn the sandals there, how did he get home without any shoes?

It was far, far too early in the morning for any kind of conscious thought.

He finally reached the bin, hauling the bag over the lip as his back cracked uncomfortably, and sighed. He wondered if any of his neighbors would judge him if they saw him sprinting back inside as fast as possible, sandals flopping under his feet.

The silent hum of the morning air was then split suddenly by a high-pitched squeaking.

Armin jumped about a metre in the air, letting out a yelp to match the one he had just heard. He wondered if he was still dreaming, or hallucinating, or about to die of a gas attack. For a split second, he imagined what it would be like to be found dead in pajamas and huge, clunky sandals.  _ Rest in Peace, Armin Arlert. He sure loved those Jesus sandals. _

Then he immediately felt stupid when he looked down and saw, next to the wheelie bin, a little ball of damp, black fur.

A kitten.

An itty-bitty little baby cat, squeaking at the top of its (tiny) lungs as it stared at Armin with wide eyes.

“Oh!” Armin yelped again, taking a step back. The kitten continued to gaze up at him, unblinking.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Uh…” Armin bent down, eyes still locked on the cat. “Hey, little guy. You gonna bite me?” Slowly, carefully, he reached forward.

For a second, the kitten looked like it was gonna bolt, fur twitching and eyes dilating. But it allowed Armin to cup his hands around it and lift it up.

“You're very pretty, aren't you?” Armin murmured, stroking a single finger between the cats furry ears. Its eyes drooped.

Armin glanced back at the door to the flat, thinking for a second. “I'm sure it's alright to take you inside for a minute,” he whispered, holding the kitten closer to his chest. “It's really cold out here.”

The kitten mewled in response.

* * *

“Armin.”

The person in question snapped his head up, and tried not to look guilty. “Yes?”

“Is that a cat?” Mikasa stared from the doorway, hair still ruffled from being asleep.

Armin looked at the kitten, who was gobbling down a tin of tuna from a plate, looking absolutely dwarfed with its tiny paws and tiny face. “I sure hope it is?”

“Where…” Mikasa rubbed her eye. “Where did you even  _ get _ it?”

“By the bins,” Armin said. Mikasa did not look reassured.

“Please put it back,” Mikasa took a couple of staggering, sleepy steps towards the coffee cupboards. “It's probably filthy. You know a couple caught the black plague recently?”

“That was from eating a rat. We're not eating this kitten.” Armin looked back at the cat, which had curled up beside the plate. “Anyway, I can't put it back outside in the rain.”

Mikasa huffed. “It's not going to—”

Right on cue, rain started slapping against the kitchen window. Proper rain, fierce and unrelenting.

“We can't put it back into the rain,” Armin repeated.

“Fine,” Mikasa pulled the bag of coffee grinds off the top shelf. “We wait for the rain to stop, and then we put it back outside.”

* * *

“I googled how to tell the gender of a cat.”

“Please, don't.”

“You have to lift its tail and look at the gap between the—”

“No.”

“Don't worry, I'll do it,”

“...”

“It's a girl! I think.”

“Cool. Can we put it back outside now?”

“I think I'll name her…”

“Don't.”

“Seashell. Shellie for short.”

* * *

“Should we take Shellie to the vet?” Armin asked, picking up the kitten with one hand. She began to vibrate happily.

“I thought we weren't keeping her,” Mikasa replied flatly, looking none too amused.

“Yeah, but…” Armin scratched the back of his neck, cuddling Shellie close to his chest. “Look at her. We can't just put her back on the streets. It'd be... unethical.”

“We very much can. She's a cat, she's built to fend for herself.”

“But also…”

“You created an emotional attachment by naming her,” Mikasa, to her credit, didn't look surprised or annoyed. She shook her head, resigned.

“Yeah,” Armin looked down at the little black kitty bundled against his chest, who blinked back. “I can't just leave her. She's basically my daughter now, or something.”

“I'm going to pretend you didn't say that.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

“Okay, so we need—”

_ “You _ need. I'm only helping as a favor for a friend.”

“I could've been talking about me and Shellie.”

“You weren't.”

“Anyway, we need a litter-box, a food bowl, cat food, and a collar. Maybe some toys. Do we need a cat bed?”

“Don't bother with the bed. She won't use it anyway.”

“What, we share my bed?”

“You're both tiny, and you've got a double bed.”

“What if I crush her, though?”

“Like I said; you're tiny. She might not even feel it.”

“Oh, ha ha. Which brand of cat food should I go for?”

“The cheaper one. We're running on a tight budget.”

“Right.”

* * *

“See? She loves you!”

Mikasa stared at him from her position on the couch, where Shellie had crawled into her lap. The kitten (cat? Juvenile cat?) was kneading her paws on Mikasa's jeans and purring like a truck engine.

“She likes me because I'm warm and not actively trying to push her off,” Mikasa replied, not flinching when Shelly dug her claws in a little too hard.

“Just give her a scratch behind the ears,” Armin, lying on his back in front of the couch, let his textbook fall onto his face. “Ow.”

Mikasa huffed lightly, resisting the temptation to brush her fingers across the fur of Shellie's chubby, fluffy cheek.

* * *

It was raining heavily, a consistent _thod-thod-thod_ of water against the roof and windows, when there was a hurried knock at their door. Armin all but ran to open it, feeling bad for the person on the other side.

It was Eren, dripping wet from head to toe, and (completely uselessly) holding his backpack over his head like a shield.

Armin stepped aside to let him in, holding back a sigh. “Eren, you could've told us you were coming, we would've left the door unlocked,”

“You shouldn't leave the door unlocked indefinitely, that's dangerous,” Eren shook his head like a wet dog, spraying rainwater everywhere. Armin tried covering his face with his arms. “Anyway, that's no way to greet someone you haven't seen in, what, a week?” Eren gave a half-grin.

Armin nudged him in the side. “Week and a half,” he corrected. “Also, guess wh—”

“Yo, are those my sandals?” Eren furrowed his brow at the massive, ugly Jesus sandals by the front door. “I was wondering where those went.”

“Why did you—” leave them here? Buy them in the first place? Armin cut himself off, and sighed, for real this time. “I'm getting you a change of clothes. Go to the bathroom.”

All Armin managed to scrounge up was a semi-stained pair of jeans and a t-shirt with  _ Ah! _ written across it in a periodic table box, then underneath it,  _ the element of surprise. _

(Armin and Mikasa do have a drawer full of Eren clothes, given that he hangs around their place so often, but he goes through clothes faster than he goes through horse jokes around Jean. Which is fast.)

“Why am I wearing this?” Eren complained, tugging at the t-shirt. “No offense, Armin, but this is more something that you would wear,”

“Offense taken,” Armin replied, as they walked to the sitting room. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you dirtied every other shirt we have in your size. This is your cone of shame.”

“Did you buy this shirt specifically to shame me, then? Because it seems like kind of a self-burn to put me in your kinda clothes,”

Armin made a shushing motion at him when they entered the sitting room, where Mikasa was sprawled out on the couch, textbooks and pens scattered around her, out cold.

Alas, Eren wasn't and would never be one to stay quiet for long. Armin's futile attempts at shutting him up were rendered pointless when Eren blinked, pointed at something at the end of the couch and said, “Is that a cat?”

Armin covered his face, groaning lightly. “Eren,” he began, “First of all, keep your voice down, some people are trying to sleep. Secondly, yes. That is a cat, which I was going to tell you about earlier until you so rudely interrupted me.”

Eren looked lost for a moment. “Since when do you have a cat?”

“Since, uh... a week ago? Maybe?”

“Where did you... get it?”

Armin almost wanted to huff a laugh at how similar Eren and Mikasa's questions were. Birds of a feather. “Same place where we got you. The trash,”

Eren shoved his shoulder, and crossed his arms “I, you didn't—!" he cut himself off. “So you just rummage around the garbage for stray animals now?”

“It wasn't on purpose,” Armin crossed his arms as well. “Her name's Seashell. Shellie for short.”

Eren broke the irritated facade and smiled, just a little, in the corner of his mouth. “Of course it is,”

“Can you two please shut up?” Came a crackly, groggy voice from the couch. Mikasa sat up, squinting at them, hair sticking up in every direction. Armin smiled involuntarily.

“I'm sorry, I just wasn't aware that you and Armin have a whole-ass cat that you didn't think to tell me about,” Eren still looked pretty huffy.

Armin sighed. He reached over to the couch and plucked Shellie off it, holding her up to Eren's eye level. “Shellie, meet Eren. Eren, Shellie.” He them proceeded to shove the cat into Eren's arms.

“Wh—”

“She's not my cat, she's Armin's,” came Mikasa's muffled voice from the couch. She appeared to be trying to take another nap.

“Why was she cuddling you, then?” Eren asked, struggling to figure out how to hold this weird bundle of fur and bones. Shellie remained lax in his grip, eyes drifting closed.

“Shellie adores Mikasa,” Armin explained. “Mikasa just won't accept that.”

“I had chicken for lunch today,” Mikasa mumbled. “She can smell it, that's why she was so close to me.”

Armin smiled again. “Eren, you want some help there?”

Eren was holding Shellie with his hands hooked under her two front legs, back legs dangling free below her. He seemed to be having a long, intense staring competition with the cat.

“Mm hm,” he murmured absently, before dropping Shellie back into Armin's arms. “I like her.”

“What...?”

“She's got spirit.”

Armin dropped Shellie to the floor, where she sat back and began bathing herself. “O... kay. I'm not even gonna ask.”

“If you two don't shush, I'm slipping ghost peppers into everything you eat for the next week.”

* * *

“You should go to bed,”

Mikasa's head jerked up from where it had been borderline lying on the desk. She turned to see Armin standing in the doorway, dressed in too-big pajamas (perhaps that was where all of Eren's clothes were going) and Shellie nestled in his arms, an expression of light disapproval on both of their faces.

“I'm fine,” she said, straightening. “I just have to finish this paper, and then I can go to bed.”

“It's two in the morning,” Armin said softly, shifting. “You have a morning class,”

“And I have to get this finished before then,” Mikasa replied, shaking hair out of her eyes. “I've only a page and a half left.”

A quiet sigh from the doorway, and as Mikasa turned back to her desk, she heard muffled footsteps coming towards her. Something soft and warm and heavy settled around her shoulders.

“Wha...?”

“There,” Armin seemed satisfied with himself. “There's someone to keep you company.”

The thing around Mikasa's neck began purring.

“All she's doing is limiting my writing arm,” Mikasa complained, but she knew that Armin could hear the smile in her voice.

“Night, Mikasa,” Armin retreated out the doorway, yawning.

“Goodnight.”

* * *

It rained the day of Mikasa's birthday, because of course it did.

Armin stared out the kitchen window in despair, all grey skies and sheets and sheets of rain. “There goes any sort of plan for a picnic,”

“Oh, hush,” Mikasa said, chugging the cup of coffee that Armin had made for her, completely unbothered by the thundering of rain against the windows. “I'm not the picnic type, anyway.”

“That's a lie, and you know it,”

“I'm fine with just watching Netflix with you and Eren on the couch all day, and  _ you _ know _ that.”  _ Mikasa finished her coffee and set it down, giving him an unfaltering look.

“I'm pretty sure that Sasha and Jean and Connie are planning on coming over,” Shellie jumped onto Armin's lap, and he scratched her under the chin.

“I'm sure that we can all squish onto the couch. Eren will just have to sit in Jean's lap.”

Armin nearly spit out his own coffee at that, swallowing and coughing. “Okay,” he managed finally, wiping his mouth. “Okay, fine, Netflix. Just please don't try to ruin your own birthday,”

“Don't worry,” Mikasa said, getting up to put her mug in the sink, “If Eren and Jean try to fistfight on my birthday, they can do it out in the rain.”

_ “There's _ birthday entertainment,” Armin tried to push Shellie back from where she was sniffing his coffee.

“Anyway, I'm going to change into some comfy clothes. Tell Eren to be here in twenty minutes or we're starting without him,”

“Pretty sure he's already on his way,” Armin checked his phone. “Yeah, he says he's sprinting here from the dorms. I'm betting a tenner that he doesn't have a raincoat or an umbrella.”

“I'm not taking you up on that,”

In the end, Sasha and Connie actually got to their place first, keeping themselves semi-dry through method of ugly, dog-shaped umbrella.

“Has the party started without us?” Sasha asked brightly, shaking herself of stray raindrops like a wet dog.

“No party,” Armin tried to balance their folded-up umbrella against the corner. “Just Netflix on a couch too small to fit all of us.”

“Oh, is Jean sitting on Eren's lap?” Connie shouldered off his coat, smirking.

With friends like these. “No, it'll probably be the other way round, actually,”

At that exact moment, Eren, soaking wet and clutching his backpack, burst through the door like something out of a zombie movie.

Armin jumped, Connie cursed something that, had Levi been there, would have gotten his mouth washed out with soap and bleach, and Sasha lunged for the umbrella in the corner. Eren blinked at them, lowering the backpack.

“Sup, guys,”

“Eren,” Armin pressed a hand to his chest. “Could you please not practically break down the door like you're coming to murder us?”

“I just sprinted here through the pouring rain,” Eren unzipped his backpack, “Plus, I didn't want the cake to get wet.”

“Maybe if you had brought an umbrella,” Armin muttered, but stepped forward to take Eren's bag, anyway. “Go to the bathroom, I'll get you some clothes.”

* * *

Mikasa's birthday, for all that the weather was terrible throughout, ended up being a success.

Mikasa sat squashed between Eren and Armin on the couch. On Eren's other side was Jean, who was squeezed in so tightly to the arm of the sofa that, to be fair, Eren was practically sitting on his lap. (The tension was throat-closing, though what kind of tension, Armin couldn't work out.) On Armin's other side was Sasha and Connie, who had to sit so close together that they practically became one person, though that wasn't really any different from what they were usually like.

Shellie had taken to rubbing up against Jean, trying to sit on his lap (where Eren wasn't) and completely ignoring Connie and Sasha's coos and meows in attempts to bring her over there, to the wonder twins' dismay.

They started with watching action movies, at Sasha and Connie's pleading, then moved onto horrors, where Jean  _ insisted  _ that Nightmare on Elm Street would be good (it wasn't), then tried rom-coms, which were fun, if a bit repetitive, and finally moved onto just watching Signs as the sky began to shift into a darker grey.

Sasha stretched, yawning, and accidentally punched Connie in the face. Over his yelping and complaints, she asked, “So, when's the cake?”

Everyone glanced at each other, and Eren shrugged. “Now, I guess?”

So, they turned off the lights (though it was still a little light outside) and bringing out the coffee cake, with approximately three candles on it (Mikasa wasn't turning three, but Connie was in charge of getting more candles and he didn't reveal until afterwards that he had no idea where he was supposed to get them) and singing happy birthday quietly while Shellie looked on in utter confusion.

Candles were blown out, slices were cut, and the entire, small, cake was utterly devoured by a group of six people barely out of their teens, licking up icing and laughing at stupid jokes.

Armin caught a glimpse of Mikasa smiling, properly smiling, and a ripple of warmth rushed through his stomach and chest.

Yeah, Mikasa's birthday was a success.

* * *

The next morning, Mikasa and Armin were the first ones awake.

(This was both a surprise and not. Mikasa and Armin were not particularly known for being morning people, but then again, neither was anyone else at the 'party'.)

There wasn't much cleanup, mostly just paper plates and pizza boxes, so they finished up pretty quickly, and contemplated on how to wake up their friends, still snoozing away on the couch.

“Bucket of water,” Mikasa said. “There's ice in the freezer.”

“We're trying to wake them up, not kill them,” Armin replied. He picked up the half-asleep cat. “I say we put Shellie on their faces and see how long it takes them to wake up due to not-breathing syndrome.”

“I thought we  _ weren't  _ trying to kill them,”

“They won't die,” Armin leaned against the kitchen counter. “They'll just wake up believing that they are being smothered by a Russian spy.”

“Sounds like a fun way to wake up. It's too slow, though. We should just drop Shellie from above and let her claws do all the work,”

“And what happens when she scratches someone's eye out and we get sent to prison for maiming someone?”

“Then we dig our way out with plastic spoons,”

Armin jolted. “I still have an air horn in my room somewhere!”

“I'm not even going to ask,” Mikasa crossed her arms. “I still like the icy water approach.”

“How about we balance cups of water on them…”

“...And then sound the air horn?”

Armin grinned. The corners of Mikasa's lips twitched to mirror his.

* * *

Sun filtered through the cracks in the blinds, soft and pale and a little too bright as he gazed through half-lidded eyes. The rain had stopped. No thumping, no splashing, no endless rolling clouds. Just quiet, the polite chirping of songbirds in the very distance.

An air horn splintered the silence.

Eren shot up, biting back a scream, and instantly felt icy wetness spreading from his stomach outwards.  _ What the— _

“Wake up, sleepyheads!”

* * *

It was raining when Armin kissed Mikasa.

It sounds way more romantic than it actually ended up being. The rain wasn't the nice, neat rain that you immediately picture when you think of kissing someone in the rain. It was drizzly, weirdly warm, and came from every direction no matter which way they angled their umbrella.

(It was a kitty umbrella, a black cat with blue eyes, birthday present courtesy of Sasha.)

They were standing under the umbrella together, quiet in the hum of the town around them, moping lightly. They were planning on hanging around the town, enjoying the new spring sunshine, when, of course, the rain hit.

Mikasa had deadpanned some sort of snarky comment as they stood under the umbrella, and Armin had smiled, and then he'd kissed her.

It lasted barely a second. It was awkward, strangely angled, and both parties were pretty unprepared. Armin pulled back, face flushed warmer than the sun, and already bracing himself for gut-wrenching silence afterwards.

Mikasa blinked. And pulled him forward by the collar and kissed him properly.

They came home through the front door warm and damp with rainwater, and Shellie curled around their ankles, mrowing questioningly.

* * *

A couple of weeks later, the sun came out for good this time.

Mikasa found Armin, one lazy afternoon, napping in a patch of sunlight. He was curled up on the couch, half-read book teetering precariously on his lap, hair laced with gold in the sunshine. Shellie snoozed in the same warmth, sprawled out across Armin's legs.

Mikasa picked up a stray blanket, blue and patterned with horses, and threw it over the both of them.

(She was pretty sure that Eren had given the blanket to Jean in a completely overused half-joke half-insult, and Jean had then chosen to leave it passive-aggressively at Mikasa and Armin's place. Why, she didn't know.)

Armin remained passed out, breathing even, but Shellie woke up with a confused “Mrrrp?” from under the blanket.

“Hello to you too,” Mikasa said quietly, before turning and heading to the kitchen.

She had managed to make herself a cup of coffee, when Shellie came in, sleepy and ruffled. She climbed onto Mikasa's lap.

“No coffee for you,” Mikasa said, gently swatting away the curious cat. Still, she reached down and scratched Shellie behind the ears.

The sky began to cloud over, just a little. Mikasa wondered if it was going to rain.

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god they were roommates
> 
> (my tumblr is @brightwritesstuff)


End file.
